What's Out There
by ardavenport
Summary: Events and injury at the fire station lead to some frank discussion and revelations between Johnny and Roy. And some revelations go by completely unnoticed.
1. Chapter 1

**WHAT'S OUT THERE**

by ardavenport

**)()()()(- - PART 1 - -)()()()(**

* * *

Rrrrrr-rrrr-rrrriiii-iiiiiii-iiiiiii-iiiiii-iiiiiinn-nnnn-nnnn-nggg-gggg!

Roy opened his eyes. Dark ceiling above. Where was that phone?

Rrrrrr-rrrr-rrrriiii-iiiiiii-iiiiiii-iiiiii-iiiiiinn-nnnn-nnnn-nggg-gggg!

He rolled over. And rammed his hand into a brick wall. The illusion of pillows, a large comfortable mattress and Joanne next to him vanished.

No. He was at the station. No snack leftovers on the night stand, no smell of floral scented shampooed hair. Just five other men in dormitory beds.

Rrrrrr-rrrr-rrrriiii-iiiiiii-iiiiiii-iiiiii-iiiiiinn-nnnn-nnnn-nggg-gggg!

Throwing the blanket off and sitting up, he looked all around, seeing only the big, less dark squares of the windows on one wall in the blackness. He turned, his feet automatically finding his boots on the floor by his bedside.

On the other side of the brick divider, Roy heard Captain Stanley stirring. "What . . .?"

Rrrrrr-rrrr-rrrriiii-iiiiiii-iiiiiii-iiiiii-iiiiiinn-nnnn-nnnn-nggg-gggg!

Pulling his pants and suspenders up and standing in one motion, he dove forward, his hand slapping his partner's chest in the darkness.

"Huunh?"

"Johnny! Get up! The power's out!"

Rrrrrrr-rrrr-rrriiii-iiiiiii-iiiiiii-iiii - - thunk - - ping-ping - - thup - - "Station Fifty-One, Captain Stanley speaking."

Other voices in the darkness.

"Cap?" Mike Stoker.

"Que?" Marco Lopez.

Roy stepped across the aside, his hand reaching out and finding a blanket with a leg under it.

"Chet! Get up! The power's out!"

"Whaaa?"

"All right, everyone up, right now!" A flashlight beam scanned across the room, then a second one. "Everyone in full turnout gear, oxygen tanks and masks! There's a chlorine leak at the refinery across the street! Move it! Move it!"

Stoker took the second flashlight. They scrambled into the apparatus bay, boots slapping on the concrete floor, Roy and John going around to the squad, Stanley and the others to the fire engine. Metal compartment doors banging open, equipment being hauled out.

"Roy!" Stanley's voice called out over the noise. "We're going east to the intersection at Alameda! The police are setting up a check-point there and we're meeting Station 36 and 16 there!"

"Right, Cap!"

On the far side of the squad from the engine and the wavering flashlight beams, Roy could barely see his equipment in the gloom, but he and Johnny knew where everything was. Turnout coat, air-tank, mask. He hefted the straps over his shoulders while his partner took out the other tank.

"Marco! Chet! Help me get this door open!"

One flashlight beam bounced over the closed garage door as Stanley and the others worked to pull it up manually. Roy opened the door to the squad.

"You going to be able to drive in all this?" The oxygen mask muffled Johnny's voice as they both reached for the fire helmets hanging behind the seat.

"I guess we'll find out." His words were flat and loud inside his air mask as he tugged on the helmet strap. The tank forced him to set forward on the seat so he was practically leaning on the steering wheel. Foot on the brake, he turned the key. The engine started. The headlights and reds came on just as the three firemen got the garage door up high enough.

Ssssssssssssiiiii-hhhhhaaaaaaaahhh.

His breath sound filled his mask.

The headlights shone on the pale concrete driveway of the station, but little else in the . . . .

. . . . . Fog.

It have been in the weather report during the ten o'clock news. Fog. Possibly heavy in the morning.

It didn't even look like their street. As if Station Fifty-One had been transported in the middle of the night to a dark city with low oppressive clouds, faintly glowing with the distant light of a city that still had power.

The squad rolled forward. Roy clicked on the siren and switched to high beams. He turned left, the engine right behind him in the rear view mirror. As he turned left, Roy saw the distinctive orange of a fire, a hazy glow high up on a refinery tower somewhere in the distant foggy darkness.

Ssssssssssssiiiii-hhhhhaaaaaaaahhh.

He smelled his own breath, stale coffee, the onions from Marco's dinner last night, old smoke from his SCBA. The squad sped down the street, past the usual landmarks, crazily lit in headlights before disappearing into the dark and fog.

He saw movement ahead, an arm waving. He slowed down. There was a car, an old four-door sedan, the hood up. The engine behind him fell back, slowing down as well. He braked, the squad stopping by the car and the man wearing a white jacket and holding a large wrench in his hand. The engine's bright glaring headlights illuminated the raised hood of the car.

"Roy, John, keep your air masks on. Use the oxygen masks from the squad; we'll take them with us on the engine." Captain Stanley's orders boomed from engine's loud speaker.

Clumsily sliding out from under the steering wheel in all his equipment, Roy saw Kelly climbing down from his side of the fire engine. He ran around the front of the squad to help Johnny with the oxygen tank.

"Hey!" The man with wrench shouted at a second, bigger man who came out of the driver's side of the stalled car. Three steps took him to Johnny who had a side compartment open. The man's fist shot out. Johnny went down.

"Heeey!" Roy's mask deadened his cry of outrage as the attacker reached down, grabbing at Johnny's mask and tank.

Marco and Chet grabbed him from behind but the much heavier man shook him off. He swung his arm wide. Marco ducked under it, just barely getting out of the way, but the large man pushed forward, shoving Marco to the ground.

A woman's voice shouted. "Eddie! Eddie! Stop it! Stop it!"

Kelly and Captain Stanley joined the fray, but their gear slowed them down and the man seemed crazed. Roy pulled Johnny away while the others distracted him. His partner's arms moved weakly, but he didn't try to stand.

Thunk!

Roy turned back at the unmistakable sound of something heavy hitting a body.

The man who attacked Johnny, Eddie, collapsed onto the pavement. The man who had flagged them down, the wrench held high, their reds flashing on its dull silver. It slipped from his grasp clinking loudly on the darkened concrete.

"Get them on the engine, right now! Move it!"

Captain Stanley's muffled order spurred them into action. Marco and ChetT scrambled to hustle the two men and a woman who had emerged from the car back with them to the engine. Roy bent over Johnny, but Captain Stanley grabbed him under an arm and pulled him up.

"Don't waste time looking him over here. Just get him in the squad and let's get out of here!"

Hampered by their safety gear, they clumsily stuffed Johnny into the passenger seat, head first, helmet, turnout coat, air tank and all. Then they had to pull him up, face mask on the dashboard so he wasn't lying on the driver's side. They bumped helmets as they both tried to get Johnny's legs in. The Captain pulled back and slammed the door shut after Roy finished.

"Go!" Stanley ran back to the engine while Roy went to his side of the squad and climbed in, his air tank forcing him to sit forward.

Roy turned the key and the squad's engine roared on. With a glance at his unmoving partner and the side mirrors, he took the shifter out of park and into drive. Putting his foot on the gas, he clicked on the siren. The air horn of the engine blasted right behind him.

He doubted that there was more than a quarter mile of visibility in the fog, but he thought the patch of it forward looked a little brighter, not just whitened from his headlights. Was the power on up ahead?

His breath loud inside his face mask, he put his foot down hard on the accelerator.

**

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)()()()(- - End PART 1 - -)()()()(**


	2. Chapter 2

**WHAT'S OUT THERE**

by ardavenport

**)()()()(- - PART 2 - -)()()()(**

* * *

Johnny's legs were twisted uncomfortably, jammed next to the side of the squad door. Uncomfortable, but he couldn't get them unstuck. The dashboard held him up, the only thing he could see through his face mask. His nose pressed down onto the curved clear plastic. The whole inside of his head felt like it had been hit.

Was there more light around them now? White street lights? Not just pulsing reds?

The squad slowed and then suddenly stopped, Roy making the brakes squeal. The stop thrust him forward, pushing his helmet off to the side, but the strap was caught under his mask. The base of his skull where he'd been hit passed peak pain, limiting it to just the left side of his head..

Roy's voice yelled something and there were other men's voices coming in through the open door of the squad. There was definitely more light around.

A draft came in on his right side and hands grasped him.

"Aaaah!" His legs twisted intolerably for a second before coming free as people dragged him out of the squad and over the pavement. Off came his helmet and mask. Hands came around his waist, unbuckling the strap there and lifted the air tank from his back.

"Johnny? Johnny?"

He was pretty sure that the double image right in front of him was Roy black shadows and white glare and flashing red lights behind. Was the power back on? There were a lot of voices around. A woman's voice yelled and shrieked. The sky was still dark, the clouds low, reflecting the flashing lights.

"Aaaah." He didn't think there was much swelling behind his left ear, but his arms caught in the sleeves of his turnout coat when he tried to reach up to it.

"Hey, just relax. We'll take care of that." Roy helped free his arms. "Just lay back."

They lowered him to the ground. Someone had rolled out a plastic blanket.

"Johnny, are you okay?" Roy took his chin, turning his head toward him.

"Yeeeeeaaahhh. I don't think I got hit too bad." He was sure he hadn't lost consciousness.

"Okay, well how many fingers am I holding up?"

"Two." He blinked up in the general direction of Roy and his fingers. Above, he thought the sky looked a slightly lighter shade of hazy black, but unnaturally close, just above the street lights.

"Yeah, right."

"What?" Offended, Johnny lifted his head, looking to where he heard Chet's criticism before turning back toward Roy. "You always hold up two fingers."

"Nice to know I'm so reliable. Here." Roy put an oxygen mask on over his face, stretching the strap on behind his head. Johnny wanted to probe the sore spot behind his ear, but Roy pushed his hand back down. "Just lie still." Palm on his forehead, Roy pressed his head back down.

"Rampart, this is Squad Fifty-One."

Johnny wondered when Roy got the biophone out of the squad.

Chet helped with his vital signs. Pulse: 130, Respiration: 32 and shallow, BP: 140 over 90, pupils even and sluggish, diplopia, administered O2. Johnny took deep breaths, trying to clear his head. The morning air on his skin was clammy and chilly with the fog, especially without his turnout coat on. The sky was definitely getting lighter.

He heard Captain Stanley calling to Chet.

"Hey, you going to need me, Roy?"

"No. Thanks, Chet."

"Okay." Chet patted his shoulder. "Hey, keep out of trouble. Just do what Roy tells you." Johnny nodded. Chet ran off to rejoin the engine company.

Lying on the ground, Johnny couldn't see much, but he could tell that there were at least two more engines there. A lot of cops. He lifted his head and pulled the mask down.

"What happened to the people in the car?"

"Squad Thirty-six has got 'em. They're on the way to the hospital."

"Were they hurt?"

"The guy who hit you was. The guy who flagged us down got him with the wrench."

"I thought he hit me with the wrench."

"No, the driver got out and clocked you when you were getting the oxygen out of the squad."

Roy put the mask back on. "Speaking of which, just keep this on for now. The ambulance will be here in a minute."

Laying back, he stared upward. Though still dark with fog, the sky was definitely brighter with morning and not just the white-glow of city lights on low clouds. He wondered if the power was back on at the station.

Roy tensed at the sound of a siren, but it wasn't the ambulance. Johnny lifted his head and saw a fire truck arriving. Number 127. He could clearly read the numbers now. But that wouldn't do him any good. Roy was going to have to take him to the hospital anyway.

Sitting back on his heals, Roy looked around at the increasing numbers of fire department personnel and police. "Looks like they're calling out the calvary for this one." Johnny couldn't see much, but from what he could hear, it looked like at least a two alarm, possibly a three. And had there been a gas release? Would they be evacuating the surrounding neighborhoods?

A new siren approached and this time it was the ambulance. After Roy stood and waved his arm, the big boxy vehicle backed up to them.

Johnny felt useless being lifted onto the stretcher by Roy and the attendants (one of them was Pete Davera, but he didn't know the other one). He knew he hadn't been hit that bad, but he wasn't going to be able to prove it until they took the x-rays at Rampart. They threw the blanket over him and buckled the straps over his middle and legs.

When they lifted him up into the back of the ambulance, he got a brief view of what was going on around them since they had elevated his head. At least three engines and one truck, the battalion chief's car, lots of police. A lot of men in full gear, masks and tanks, three captains talking to the chief. Flashing red lights, alarms and dispatch, loud on the engine radios. The fog was lifting; it was getting light.

Chet Kelly came running up. "Hey, Roy!"

One leg up in the back of the ambulance, Roy turned. "Yeah?"

"Hey, I'm going to drive the squad into Rampart for you, but as soon as you'er done with Johnny there, the Cap wants you to resupply and get right back here."

"Have we got any injuries?"

Chet was already back-stepping toward the squad as he spoke. "No so far. They think they got everyone out and they contained the gas. They're just gettin' ready to go in."

"Okay." Roy climbed in.

They hadn't gotten to the fire yet? How much gas had been released?

The ambulance doors slammed shut, cutting off his view of the action, blocking the sounds of activity outside. A moment later the siren started up and the ambulance moved.

Johnny was surprised they were holding everyone back, that they were just going after the fire now. But if there was chlorine gas, they had to clear that first. Even in air masks it could be too dangerous. And he was stuck here while things were just getting started.

Roy's hand closed on his wrist, checking his pulse.

"Hey, Johnny." Roy's hand on the back of his head startled him.

Uh, oh. He had closed his eyes. He couldn't just lie back and be tired from getting up before dawn and then not being able to go in and put out a three-alarm fire. Roy had to know he didn't have a serious head injury.

"You okay?" Roy already had his pen light out to check his eyes again. He nodded and Roy took his vitals again. This time Johnny held up four fingers for his partner when he asked how many. Roy nodded back with a hint of a smile this time.

The ambulance took longer than it normally would have to get them to Rampart since it had to go around the area cordoned off around the chemical plant, including Station Fifty-One. The base of his skull behind his left ear ached where he'd been hit. There had to some swelling, but it was just a bruise. He was sure that his helmet and turnout coat had prevented the man from getting a clear shot at him. But it had been a hell of a punch. It felt like it went all the way through his head. For several minutes afterwards, he couldn't think to move, just let the others shove him into the squad so they could get away.

He was sure he hadn't lost consciousness.

Roy peered out the side window. "We're almost there."

The ambulance made the last few turns and backed into Rampart's emergence entrance. Roy got up and when the doors opened, he lifted his end of the stretcher out the back of the ambulance. They rolled the stretcher inside. Doctor Brackett stood in the hall with Dixie McCall and they followed them into Treatment Room Three. Pale green tile, stainless steel and bright exam table lights.

"What happened?" Brackett took out his pen light. Dixie wrapped the BP cuff around Johnny's arm while Roy told them about the driver of the car hitting him. Brackett seemed satisfied with his pupil response, took the oxygen mask off and asked how he felt.

"Well, fine now." Johnny put a hand up to finally feel the lump behind his ear. No one stopped him.

"Is that where he hit you." Brackett peered under his hair.

"Yeah - - ouch!"

"Sorry." The doctor withdrew his hand. "Did you lose consciousness at all."

"He was out for about a minute, Doc."

"I was not." Johnny gave his partner a cross look. "I was just. . . . stunned."

"Hmmm." Brackett folded his arms before him. Dixie read off his vital signs. They sounded fine to Johnny, but Brackett predictably ordered a full skull series. Dixie phoned for the portable x-ray machine.

"Need anything else, Doc? They're going to need me back there." Roy pointed a thumb back at the door.

"No. Just don't send too many more our way, Roy."

"We'll try." Roy clasped Johnny's shoulder. "Hey. I'll be back for you later."

Johnny quirked a half smile back. "Sure. Just don't try to put the fire out by yourself." Roy grinned back and left, drug box under his arm. Johnny sighed. A two or three alarm fire and a chlorine gas leak sounded a lot better than skull x-rays at Rampart. Wasn't anyone else hurt from that?

"Hey, Doc, what happened to they guy who hit me?"

"Doctor Early's with him, but he didn't look good. Looks like he has a cracked skull. But lets just concentrate on yours for now."

As if called, the door opened and the enormous x-ray machine came in, pushed by the technician, Fred. Johnny glumly thought about the fire he was missing.

**

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)()()()(- - End PART 2 - -)()()()(**


	3. Chapter 3

**WHAT'S OUT THERE**

by ardavenport

**)()()()(- - PART 3 - -)()()()(**

* * *

"There you are."

Johnny, stretched out on the sofa, started and looked up at his partner. The Rampart break room TV was on with the sound down low.

"Finally!" He sat up, pulling the suspenders back up over his white t-shirt.

"Yeah, sorry I'm so late. They had another gas leak and they had to take care of that before they could really knock down the fire. They ended up calling a third alarm on it. And there were a few injuries. I've already been here and back once with the squad."

"Are you here with the squad now? This late?" Johnny gestured toward Roy's clothes, fireman's pants and boots, white undershirt and dark blue Nomex jacket over that.

"No, we're off, I just drove over here in my car to get you."

Johnny eagerly stood. "Is the station open?"

"Yeah, power's back. Are you sure you're okay?"

Johnny looked exasperated. "Yeah, I'm okay. You and everyone who's come in here has been asking me that. Dixie, Doctor Morton, Carol, Linda, Doctor Brackett, even Bellingham and Brice came in here. The last thing I need right now is medical advice from Craig Brice."

"Oh yeah, They've called Station Sixteen on the fire, too. Was there much on the TV about it?"

"Some. But there was more about evacuating the neighborhoods than the fire. Now they're just playing soap operas."

They got to door which opened just before Roy touched the doorknob. Doctor Early, wearing sweat stained green surgical scrubs shuffled in.

"Hey, Hi Doc."

He acknowledged them with a weary nod and 'Hi, guys,' passing them on the way to the coffee. Puzzled by the silver-haired doctor's subdued greeting, the two firemen paused.

"Uh, Doc, how did that other guy do, the one who hit me?"

The few seconds it took Early took to answer told them what he would say before he spoke. "He didn't make it." He sat down at the small break-room table with his cup. The coffee smelled like it had been sitting in the pot for awhile, strong an slightly burned.

"Oh, um, sorry to hear that." Johnny couldn't think of anything else he wanted to say, letting Roy ask the obvious.

"What happened? I thought he only got hit once."

"Sometimes once is all it takes." Early sat forward in his chair with his hands around his coffee cup on the table. In his side vision, Roy caught Johnny nervously rubbing the sore spot behind his ear while the doctor continued. "He had a skull fracture and he started hemorrhaging; I relieved the pressure, but there was too much damage; I couldn't stop it." Elbows on the table, Early folded his hands together.

Roy gulped, feeling acutely aware of the vast difference between what paramedics and doctors did. "Well, what's going to happen to the guy whole hit him?" He sneaked another covert glance at his partner.

Early shrugged. "I don't know. The cops think it was an accident. I just spent the last half hour talking to them. They'll probably want to talk to you, too."

Johnny gave a nervous half smile. "Well, uh, I guess they'll know where to find us. But why'd he hit me?"

"Well, the police told me that his wife said that he panicked. They thought they could smell some kind of gas and he wanted to take your air mask. Apparently he'd boxed professionally and when his friend saw him attacking you he just hit him with the wrench to get him to stop."

"Oh, well," Johnny self-consciously dropped his hand, "the guy really knew how to throw a punch."

Early shrugged again. "I guess so. How're you feeling, Johnny?"

"Uh, um, fine. Just great, Doc." His hand went back behind his ear again.

Early's expression turned a little mischievous. "Don't worry about it. You're fine. I saw the x-rays."

Johnny did not look too reassured. "Oh, uh, okay, that's good."

"Come on," Roy tugged on his arm, "let's get out of here." With a final goodbye to Early, they left. Out down the hall with greetings-in-passing to Brackett and Dixie McCall on the way. Out past the waiting area. Out the entrance. Roy led Johnny out to the parking lot where his car was and they went in silence back to the station.

Station Fifty-One looked perfectly fine in mid-morning. The engine and squad were out with B-shift, but after they had gone to the locker room and changed, they were surprised to find Captain Stanley in uniform, in the office.

"You want to help fill out this incident report?" Stanley jabbed a pen down at the paperwork on the desk. Neither Roy nor Johnny wanted to volunteer for extra paperwork duty but they did tell Stanley what Early said about the man who hit Johnny.

"Oh, we get to help with a police report, too? Lovely." Stanley's smile was anything but cheerful.

"Glad we could help."

Roy didn't think Stanley appreciated Johnny's version of 'help'. Stanley did fill them in on what had caused the blackout, gas leak and fire.

A drunk had gotten lost and confused in the fog and hit a telephone pole with his car. Station 36 had responded to that and the utility company sent a crew to repair the damage. But on the way, the utility truck actually hit a power pole (there was still some debate about another car being involved; it apparently left the scene) and caused the blackout. The sudden power outage caused the gas leak when the backup power at the chemical plant shorted and started a fire. The men working there got out with their emergency survival gear, but there was a delay in reporting the accident since the power outage disabled the plant's file alarms. Then there had been a minor panic at headquarters when Station Fifty-One didn't answer their alarm because the worst case scenario was that they had all been killed by the gas. Until someone thought of trying the telephone.

The two paramedics filled out the squad's log book before leaving their Captain to his paperwork. Roy noticed his partner rubbing the sore spot behind his ear again as they left the office.

"Hey, how about coming to my place for breakfast? Or lunch maybe?" They crossed out of the shade of the rear of the station into the mid-morning sun.

Johnny perked up. "Sure. But will it be okay with Joanne and the kids? Isn't your mother-in-law visiting?"

"The kids are still in school. And Joanne and her mother are at her mother's cousin's funeral."

"Weren't you supposed to go to that?"

Roy shrugged. "I guess I missed it now. I called Joanne. She's not happy, but she understands." And Roy privately preferred a three alarm fire and a poisonous gas leak to going anywhere with his mother-in-law any day. Johnny nodded and turned toward his Range Rover.

"Uh, hey, why don't I drive us?"

"Hunh?" Johnny looked at first baffled and then critical. It was a ridiculous suggestion. If Roy drove Johnny to his house then he'd have to drive him all the way back to the station later so he could get his car. Brackett had told Roy that Johnny was fine. He hadn't specifically said that he shouldn't drive, but he should 'take it easy' for a couple of days.

Roy saw his partner's expression turn thoughtful and he knew that Johnny was thinking the same thing he was; Doctor Early in his surgical scrubs telling them that he'd just lost a patient who had been hit 'only once.'

Johnny shrugged his consent. "Sure."

**

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)()()()(- - End PART 3 - -)()()()(**


	4. Chapter 4

**WHAT'S OUT THERE**

by ardavenport

**)()()()(- - PART 4 - -)()()()(**

* * *

Johnny got into work at the usual time for his next shift. He parked in the back of the station. Roy, Mike and Captain Stanleys' cars were already in the lot. He shut off the engine and looked glumly down at the two pink boxes tied with white string in the passenger seat next to him. The sooner he got them inside, the sooner it would al be eaten and that would be that.

He took the boxes in with him.

Roy was almost finished dressing when he pushed through the door into the locker room. His face lit up when he saw the boxes.

"Hey, you got two? That must have been a good date."

"Yeah, well, I guess." Only one box contained a cake. The second had cream puffs and brownies. He put the boxes on the bench and opened his locker.

"Oh, don't tell me . . . . . you broke up with Sandy."

Annoyed by Roy's disappointed tone, he glowered back around his locker door. What did Roy have to be upset about?

"Who says I broke up with her?"

"You do. I know that look." Roy picked up his badge from the bench and pinned it to his shirt.

Johnny finished unbuttoning his shirt and threw it down into his locker. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Fine."

After a moment of silence on his left, Johnny peeked. Roy wasn't even looking at him; he was just pinning his name badge to the other side of his blue uniform shirt. Johnny pulled his uniform pants on, zipped and buckled and took out his own blue shirt.

"You know what I don't get is why a girl who dumps you thinks that baking a cake is supposed to make up for that." He crossly buttoned his shirt.

Roy shrugged. "Maybe she didn't want to hurt your feelings."

"Didn't want to hurt my _feelings_? _She_ didn't want to hurt _my_ feelings?" Roy had no idea what he was talking about. Johnny took his boots out and slammed them down on the bench. "Roy, you have no idea - - - " He stopped. And turned back to his locker. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Fine."

Sometimes, Roy could be insufferably calm.

"You want me to take those out to the guys?"

Johnny scowled down at the pink boxes. "Sure. I sure don't want any."

Roy collected them. "Okay. See you out there."

As soon as he was gone, Johnny sagged, as if he couldn't be mad any more if there wasn't anyone else there to see it. As far as dumpings went, this one had to be a 8.0 on the Richter scale. Johnny couldn't think of when he'd been so thoroughly cast aside. And then. . . .

He grit his teeth. He did not want to think about it. It was done. He was out of it. That was that. Move on.

"Hey, Johnny!" Chet Kelly came in, follow by Marco Lopez for their shift. "Saw the cake boxes. What new culinary delights has the delectable Sandy baked for her Johnny and his heroic firehouse buddies?"

Sitting in his locker, feet on the bench, Johnny shrugged and tied his shoelaces. "Oh, nothing special." If he didn't want to talk about it with Roy he sure didn't want to talk about it with Chet and Marco.

Marco and Chet looked at each other.

"I don't believe it. You broke up with, Sandy, Gage?" Chet made it sound like he'd lost the game for the team.

Johnny couldn't believe it. How could they know? From three words? He'd only said three words.

"Did you talk to Roy?"

"We didn't have to. It's written all over your face, pal." Marco sounded disappointed. "We're sure going to miss all those great desserts. You think Sandy's got a friend you can start dating at the bakery?"

Glaring at them, Johnny furiously finished putting on his shoes. "You want dessert Marco, you can date Sandy herself. Believe me, she's available." He left the locker room.

He just finished buttoning his shirt as he came around the back end of the squad. Charlie Hopkins from C-shift stood with Roy, the open drug box on the hood of the squad between them. Charlie was just finishing telling Roy about their shift and pointing out what they needed. They were short on bandages for the drug box, but the trauma box was fine.

"Hi, Charlie. Interesting shift?" Johnny finished tucking in his shirt tails.

"Oh, you could say that," the shorter man shook his head. "But I've gotta get out of here. My wife wants me to paint the kitchen today and she tells me that if I don't get it done this time there'll be hell to pay. And I won't get any dinner, too."

"See ya." Roy waved him off and Charlie headed for the locker room.

Resting his elbows on the hood of the squad, Johnny frowned down at the drug box. It was short on sterile pads, Kerlex and tape. But Charlie's mention of his wife reminded him of something.

"Uh, speaking of hell to pay . . . Roy, you've always complained about your mother-in-law, and I remember how happy you were when she decided to move up north to be closer to Joanne's sister, but . . . man, Roy, I never really thought it was _that_ bad."

Roy's smile immediately vanished. He leaned on the squad next to him. "Oh. Yeah. Sorry you had to see that. I guess I had the mistaken idea that she might be a little nicer if there was another guest in the house."

"Oh, you just had me over to make sure I didn't have a hematoma. But man," Johnny shook his head, "I couldn't believe all the things she said."

It had started as soon as Joanne and her mother returned for lunch. First Mrs. Donovan sniped about Roy missing the funeral. Then she had carped about men messing up a woman's kitchen when he brought out sandwiches for everyone. And all through the meal she inserted little criticisms, about Roy's job, the house they were living in, what they could afford to get for their son's birthday, their old furniture. Johnny grimaced in disgust. "I mean Joanne looked embarrassed."

"Yeah, I guess she was a little worse than usual. Joanne said her mother was just upset about her cousin dying. I just try to keep my head down. It all blows over as soon as she's gone."

"She gone?"

"Yep. We saw her off yesterday morning. But don't tell the other guys."

"Why not?" Johnny looked back in surprise.

"Because _I_ don't want to talk about it. It's bad enough when she visits, I don't need to be reminded about it while I'm here."

"Yeah, but - -"

"I mean it. Okay?"

The vehemence in Roy's tone surprised him, but he agreed. "Okay, okay. If you don't want to talk about it, I won't talk about it."

Captain Stanley emerged from the day room, flaky cream puff in one hand, chocolatey brownie in the other. "Hey, you guys might want to get in there while there's some left."

"They can have it. I don't want any." Johnny barely glanced back at him.

"Yeah, I heard you broke up with Sandy. We're all really going to miss her cooking."

"Yeah, well I'm not." He almost suggested that they could all join Sandy since she loved crowds so much, but stopped himself before the words came out. "And I don't want to talk about it . . . uh," Johnny hastily lowered his tone to something more respectful, ". . . Cap."

His superior officer seemed to take it in stride. "Suit yourself." He took a bite of brownie and disappeared into the office.

Oooooooeeeeeeee-mmmmaaaaahhhh - BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

Squad Fifty-One - Woman with stomach pains - Nine-Three-Six-Six West Palm Circle - Nine-Three-Six-Six West Palm Circle - Cross Street Bellvue Avenue - Time Out: Eight Twenty-two.

Roy looked heavenward. "Saved by the bell."

**

* * *

)()()()(- - End PART 4 - -)()()()(**


	5. Chapter 5

**WHAT'S OUT THERE**

by ardavenport

**)()()()(- - PART 5 - -)()()()(**

* * *

The first call of the day was for a middle-aged woman in a spotlessly clean house with white carpets. And even though she was clearly feeling unwell, refused to let them touch her until they put gloves on. After they dug latex gloves out of the trauma box she consented, but when Roy told her it looked like she might have food poisoning she insisted that her kitchen was absolutely clean. She took even the possibility that something she ate might have made her sick as an affront to her moral fiber and she denied it all the way to Rampart in the ambulance.

When she arrived, she demanded that Doctor Brackett and the nurse wear gloves. Brackett humored her by making a show of washing his hands along with giving a mini-lecture about how medical personnel were trained in proper hand washing technique. Then he pulled on a pair of latex gloves. That seemed to satisfy her, but she hotly denied his initial diagnosis of food poisoning. Roy left the treatment room with her still arguing with Brackett.

Johnny was already at the base station, re-supplying the drug box and collecting a few extra things for the trauma box. Doctor Early was on the radio inside the enclosed base station room.

"How's she doin'?"

"Oh, fine. Didn't trust Brackett or Carol with bare hands either." Roy checked out the coffee but the pot was empty.

Johnny grinned and shook his head. "Well, I guess you can't be too careful about germs."

Roy picked up a box of disposal groves and put it with the other supplies. "I guess so."

Beep-Beep-Beep! "Squad Fifty-One, What is your status?"

Johnny reached for the Handi-Talkie. "Squad Fifty-One, available."

"Squad Fifty-One, man injured. Eight-Twenty-Two-and-A-Half Oakdale Place."

They grabbed their things and left.

It was a chainsaw accident.

A man had been cutting up a fallen limb with a borrowed chainsaw in his backyard. He'd hit his leg with it. Since no one else was home, he dragged himself inside and called for help. He was conscious but shocky and pressing a towel to his mangled leg when they found the open back door, a bloody trail on the kitchen floor. Both paramedics were glad they had stocked up on supplies as they bandaged the injuries and started the IVs. Fortunately, the ambulance arrived right after they did.

Johnny rode in with the victim and Roy drove the squad in. Brackett would be stitching him up for the next hour at least, but he would recover. On their way back from the hospital dispatched called for Engine and Squad Fifty-One. Structure fire.

An older couple burned their lunch and the woman did the worst possible thing to put out a grease fire. She threw water on it. The two escaped the resulting fire ball with minor injuries but most of the kitchen was incinerated floor to ceiling.

They all went back to the station together. Fortunately, Captain Stanley remembered that they didn't have anything for their own meal (Stanley was cooking) and they stopped to get groceries for both lunch and dinner and made it back to the station with no more calls. While the engine crew made for the kitchen, Roy and Johnny went to the office to fill out their log.

"Well, that was a full morning." Roy tugged out the little note pages from his front pockets.

"Yeah, I hope the whole shift isn't going to be like this." Johnny flipped open the log book while pulling out his own note scraps from his pockets along with his green plastic pen. The pages riffled as he found where C-shift has left off. He stared down at the page.

"What?" His mouth opened, he leaned forward, his finger sliding down the list of entries. "I don't believe it."

Puzzled, Roy wandered over trying to see what Johnny was so suddenly interested in.

"I can't believe it! Why didn't this happen on _our_ shift!"

Roy jumped back. "What?"

"This! This!" He jabbed at the page. "Why couldn't this have happened on _our_ last shift?"

Roy wasn't close enough to see and wasn't sure he wanted to be at the moment.

Oooooooeeeeeeee-mmmmaaaaahhhh - BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

Squad Fifty-One - Assist Station Sixteen with rock slide victims - Sagebrush Highway, a mile and a half west of Lakeland Drive, Sagebrush Highway, a mile and a half west of Lakeland Drive - Time Out: Eleven Forty-six.

**

* * *

)()()()(- - End PART 5 - -)()()()(**


	6. Chapter 6

**WHAT'S OUT THERE**

by ardavenport

**)()()()(- - PART 6 - -)()()()(**

* * *

Sagebrush Highway was a two-lane road winding through the dry hillsides of LA County. On the way there dispatch told them that one victim had been freed from her car by the Engine company. And their other two victims were Code I. Squad Sixteen.

Squad Fifty-One kicked up a cloud of dust as Roy braked to a stop at the scene behind Engine Sixteen and Squad Sixteen. Johnny jumped out of his side first just as Captain Arnold, a broad-shouldered older man with a gruff voice, ran up to meet them.

"This woman got caught in a rock slide." Arnold pointed at a frightened middle-aged woman sitting on the tail board of the engine. "We were trying to get her out when there was another slide, knocked Bob out and crushed the side of the car where Brice was. We got her out throught the window, but we're still trying to get Brice out. He's got a broken arm and some cuts, but he's talking our new guy through patching him up while we get him out."

A yellow plastic sheet had been laid out on the dusty pavement. A man from the engine crew knelt next to Bob Bellingham and held an oxygen mask over his face; they'd put him in a neck brace. Squad Sixteen's biophone and drug box were open. Roy went to them.

Johnny took a step toward the blue sedan further down the road, its front end half buried in boulders. Captain Arnold barked a warning at him.

"No! You two stay right here! I've already got two injured paramedics and I don't want another. We'll get him out."

"But, Cap - - "

"Don't give me any back talk, Gage!" Arnold gave him a mean glare and Johnny shut up. "We've got two ambulances coming. You two stay here and we'll bring Brice to you. Torrence, come on."

The man kneeling next to Bellingham gave Roy a worried nod and ran off toward the car after his captain. Momentarily frustrated, Johnny watched them join the other two at the car and boulders. He heard a K-12 grinding through metal; they were cutting it open. He turned and went to the woman.

"Hi there, How're you doing?"

She clutched a handkerchief to her face, her slightly graying black hair in complete disarray, her flowered dress dirty and torn in places. Her cheek and arms had been bandaged but she didn't seem to have any other injuries.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry." She kept looking back toward Bellingham and her car. "They get hurt helping me."

"Now that's okay." Johnny put his hand under her chin to get her to look at him and his penlight. "They're going to be fine." Her pupil responses were normal. Johnny grasped her wrist. Next to the engine, Roy talked to Rampart on Sixteen's biophone, giving them vital signs.

Her name was Mario Ruis. She babbled on about the rocks falling. Being trapped for a half hour until another car stopped and the man in it went to call for help. And then the firemen came to rescue her. One was in the car with her when the rocks fell again. Another got hit while the others scattered. They came back right away, but the one next to her was trapped, too. And bleeding.

Johnny heard a siren in the distance.

"Now, they're going to get him out." Her vital signs were fine . . . for an emotionally distraught woman who had just been in a near fatal accident. He took the BP cuff off her arm. "So, just calm down. They're going to get him out. My partner's taking care of the other one. So, just calm down. Okay?"

She wiped her eyes and nodded, looked toward the car and made the sign of the cross.

Johnny stood. The siren came around a sharp turn aroung the dry grassy hillside and the ambulance pulled up to them. The attendants got out and went to the back while Johnny crouched next to Roy. Bellingham was a little older, more balding than they were. But he wore exactly the same badge, blue shirt and yellow paramedic patch that they did. He hadn't moved.

"How's he doing?"

Roy looked unhappy. "His pupils are even but sluggish and he's really out. But it could be worse. There's no bleeding from his nose or ears and his reflexes are fine." There was paramedic's fire helmet on the yellow plastic. Green number sixteen. The crown was whole, but badly scrapped with part of the rim broken off.

The attendants rolled the stretcher up to them. Johnny stood, but the engine company was still huddled around the car. The K-12 started up again. "When's the next ambulance?"

"I don't know." Roy picked up the Handi Talkie. "This is squad Fifty-One. Can we get an ETA on the second ambulance at our location?"

"Squad Fifty-One, stand by."

They helped get Bellingham on the stretcher and elevated his head.

"Squad Fifty-One." Johnny picked up the HT.

"Squad Fifty-One."

"Ambulance ETA to your location is three minutes."

"Ten-Four." Johnny nodded to Roy. They didn't want to wait to get Bob to the hospital. Gage went back to the woman to help her up to go in with Roy and Bellingham in the ambulance. There was a moment of confusion when they almost mixed up Squad Sixteen's biophone with theirs. They lifted the stretcher in first, then Johnny helped Maria to step up and Roy guided her to a seat. Johnny closed the doors and pounded on them; all secure.

The siren started up and the ambulance went back down the road, its wheel stirring up a dust cloud behind it.

Johnny stepped back, hands on his hips. The K-12 had stopped at the car, but he couldn't see anything else going on. He reached down to where he'd put aside his helmet on the ground by the engine. But when he straightened again he saw the engine crew backing away from the car with a backboard and then running toward him. The helmet clacked against the engines tail board before it hit the ground again.

When they laid the back board down, Johnny saw that Brice's right upper arm had already been splinted, his bloody shirt partially cut away and his right shoulder bandaged.

"He told me what to do while the guys were working on the car!" A wide-eyed firefighter, a skinny kid who didn't look any older than twenty, held his bloody fingers out like he didn't know what to do with them. Another fireman put down a trauma box next to the biophone. Johnny crouched over Brice, took his cracked glasses off and checked his eyes.

"Brice? Brice?"

Diaphoretic, rapid thready pulse, pale, shallow rapid breathing. His pupils were sluggish, but even.

"Bob? Bob?" Brice's eyes half-focused in his direction.

"Hey Brice? Brice? It's John Gage."

"Bob? Did you get hit?" He blinked and squinted.

Johnny got on the biophone. "Rampart, this is Squad Fifty-One from Squad Sixteen's biophone. How do you read?"

Brackett's voice answered. "Loud and clear, Fifty-One."

Johnny gave him Brice's vital signs.

"Okay, Fifty-One start IV with ringers. Monitor vital signs. Transport as soon as possible." Johnny got out the packets from the drug box.

"Is he going to be all right?" Captain Arnold knelt beside them.

Stretching out a length of IV tubing, Johnny nodded with a reassuring smile. "He's gonna be fine, Cap." The bleeding looked like it was under control.

Arnold shook his head. "This guy's the coldest fish I've ever had working for me, but he does his job. I couldn't believe he talked Smitty through all that."

The skinny young fireman was wiping his hands off on the dirt and dry weeds by the side of the road. Captain Arnold picked up Brice's broken glasses.

"Well, Brice is a pretty good paramedic." Johnny swabbed Brice's arm and pumped up the BP cuff to get a good vein. He heard another siren approaching as he put in the needle and taped it down. Sixteen's engineer went to their rig while Johnny sent the other fireman, Freeman, to the squad to get the oxygen.

With the additional fluids Brice immediately started looking better, but still confused.

"Bob?"

"Hey Brice, it's John Gage."

"Gage?" He lifted his head and groaned. "Aaaah." He grimaced in pain, reaching for his splinted arm.

Johnny grabbed Brice's wrist. "Hey, don't move around. Don't mess up your I.V."

"Just lie back there, Brice. That's an order."

He squinted up at his captain and laid his head back down. "Uh, yes, Sir, Captain."

Arnold grinned and shook his head.

Brice turned back to Gage. "Where's Bob?"

Johnny took the oxygen mask from Freeman. "He's on his way to Rampart - - "

"No, no! He's not dead! He can't be!" Brice's eyes suddenly turned wild with terror. Trying to rise his splinted arm pulling upward on the sling and bandage that held it in place. His feet kicked the ground. Shocked, Johnny hung on to the I.V. arm with both hands. The other firemen hesitated to grab his flailing legs. Behind them, he heard the ambulance come around the last corner and shut off its siren as it slowed, turned and backed up to them.

"He's not dead! He's not dead! Stop movin' around! Brice!"

Scowling, Captain Arnold pressed down hard on the paramedic's bare, uninjured shoulder where the remains of his blue shirt had fallen away.

"Aaaah!" Brice's head fell back on the yellow sheeting.

"Bellingham is fine Brice! And you're not helping him by panicking!" Arnold scowled his disapproval and Brice went limp. The ambulance attendants got the stretcher out; it clattered as it crossed the road to them.

"He's going to be fine, Brice! Roy's with him right now. He's going to be fine. Now let's just take care of you."

Brice didn't move, lying there panting, his eyes darting between him and Captain Arnold and tearing up.

"Okay. That's good." Brice suddenly didn't look that good to Johnny, but at least he wasn't thrashing around. Brice stared upward, breathing like he could suck back in his sudden outburst. "That's good. Just stay cool, Brice. You can see Bob when we get you to Rampart."

Brice nodded and gulped. "Yes, of course." He noisily inhaled through his nose. "Sorry about that, Gage. That was," another gulp of air, "very unprofessional of me. Thanks for your help, Gage."

"That's okay. That's okay. You've been through a lot. You did a pretty good job telling Smitty what to do. I hardy had to do anything." Johnny checked the I.V. but it was still in place. He pressed down an edge of the tape that had come up. Brice looked down at his arm. Johnny made sure the arm was straight as he helped the attendants load him onto the stretcher, then tie the strap around the middle. One attendant threw the blanket over him.

"Yeah." Brice nodded while Johnny held up the I.V. bag with one hand and pulled the blanket up over his chest with the other. "But I couldn't tell him how to do the I.V. Or do it myself."

Walking with the stretcher to the back of the ambulance and signaling to Freeman to bring the oxygen tank, Johnny half smiled. "Well, actually you can. But it sure isn't a whole lot of fun."

**

* * *

)()()()(- - End PART 6 - -)()()()(**


	7. Chapter 7

**WHAT'S OUT THERE**

by ardavenport

**)()()()(- - PART 7 - -)()()()(**

* * *

Siren blaring, the ambulance went over of a rough stretch of pavement.

"Unnnnnnnnnnhhhhh."

"Bob? Bob?"

Bob Bellingham blinked up at Roy. Lifted his hand to his head. Roy took his wrist, but he let him pull the oxygen mask down to speak.

"How're you feeling, Bob?"

"Ooooh, terrible. My head is exploding."

"Do you feel sick at all?" Roy took out his pen light. Bob obliged, looking up while he shined the light in his eyes.

He thought over his answer. "No. Just feel like there's a rock band pounding in my skull. How long have I been out?

"About twenty-five minutes." His pupil responses were fine now. Roy took out the BP cuff. "Do you remember what happened?"

"Yeah, a big rock rolled down the hill, came right at me. Hey! What happened to that lady? And Brice!"

"Hey, hey, don't try to get up! She's okay. See?"

Maria, still clutching her hankie and sitting on the ambulance bench, nodded "I'm so glad you not hurt. I'm so glad." She crossed herself with a happy sniff and dabbed at her eyes.

Bob grinned back to her. "Hey, I'll be up before you know it. It's all part of the job, Ma'am."

Roy and Maria braced themselves as the ambulance took a turn. Roy recognized the buildings passing by the side window. They were close.

"But what about Brice? That rock hit the car, crushed it. It was a boulder." His eyes almost pleaded up to Roy.

"They were still getting him out of the car when we left. Captain Arnold said that he had a broken arm and they were patching him up. He wouldn't let us near that car. He said he didn't want any more injured paramedics."

Bob 'huh'ed an abbreviated laugh then immediately groaned; it looked like it hurt him. "Yeah, Arnold can be a tough old smoke eater. But he's fair." He lowered his eyes, smiling. "Damn. It took me weeks to convince Brice to stop quoting regulations to him. He just couldn't understand why it would put Arnold in a bad mood, but he finally stopped."

Roy laughed in sympathy. That sounded exactly like the same heartless, by-the-book-and-only-the-book man he had shared Squad Fifty-One with for two weeks after Johnny got hurt last year.

Bob sighed. "Dammit Roy, I really love the little jerk. He'd better be alright."

"Yeah, well, let's put this back on." He replaced the oxygen mask. Roy supposed that it was a good thing that someone liked Craig Brice as a partner. Just as long as it didn't have to be him.

The ambulance made the last turn to Rampart, around and under the building and finally backing up to the Emergency entrance. When they got inside a nurse led Maria to Treatment Room Three and Doctor Early was ready for Bob in Room Four.

Early nodded as he listened to Roy tell him about the accident and examined Bob. Carol took vital signs while Bob answered the Doctor's question. Massive headache, he remembered everything that happened to him up until he was hit by the rock and he had a few minor bruises on his arms, knee and shoulder. Early ordered a full skull series.

"Can't be too careful with head injuries, eh, Doc?"

Early glanced up from looking in one of Bob's ears. "It's just a precaution. You're going to be fine."

"Yeah." Bob lowered his gaze. "It's just . . . I heard you lost one the other day. From that refinery fire."

Early sighed, resting his hand on the raised head of the examination table, his gentle voice serious. "I won't lie to you; with any head injury there can be complications. You know that better than most people what can happen. But more often than not, there aren't. Johnny got hit in that fire, too, in almost the same place you did. And he's fine."

"Really?" Bellingham rubbed his head behind his left ear. "Did you bring him in, too, Roy?"

"Yeah. Except it was a guy who hit him. Not a rock. Johnny didn't even get to the fire."

"Well, I'll tell you, a rock can hit a whole lot harder than any guy can." They all laughed over that one; it was true. But Roy saw Bob wince and rub his head again.

The door opened and the huge portable x-ray machine came in. They left Bob with the technician; Early promised Bob to let him know about Brice as soon as he could.

"We'll know more when we get the x-rays, but I think he'll be fine." Early patted Roy on the arm before being called away by another nurse, Gena, in the busy hallway. Roy hefted the oxygen tank, biophone and Squad Sixteen's drug box and headed toward the base station. But as soon as he got there and put everything down he turned to see Johnny coming in with a stretcher with Brice on it. There was an I.V. and Brice's right shoulder was bandaged, but he couldn't see any more.

Brackett appeared and joined them, exchanging a few words with Johnny. Brice wasn't critical or they never would have taken the time to talk before going into the treatment room.

In their wake was a skinny fireman with a Station Sixteen helmet on. He looked lost. Since the x-ray tech hadn't come out of Bob's room yet, Roy went to him and introduced himself. His name was John Smith, but the rest of his station called him Smitty. He drove Squad Fifty-One in behind the ambulance.

"How's Bob?"

"Oh, he's going to be fine. They're just doing the x-rays now."

"Ooooh, that's good. The rest of the guys will be really happy to hear that. Will he miss his next shift?"

"Mmmmm, maybe. Doc wants to keep him here overnight for observation."

"Oh. That's not good." Smitty looked worried. "I mean, it's always tough to get anyone else to fill in a shift with Brice. Captain Arnold would probably strangle Brice if Bob weren't there."

Roy sympathized. "Well, doesn't Brice have a broken arm? Bob'll probably be back to work before Brice will."

"Oh!" Smitty's mouth opened in a slightly goofy, youthful grin. "Yeah, I forgot."

There was an awkward moment where Smitty didn't seem to know what else to say before he held up his hands, fingers spread. They were dirty. He had dark grime under his fingernails.

"Do you know where I can wash my hands?"

**

* * *

)()()()(- - End PART 7 - -)()()()(**


	8. Chapter 8

**WHAT'S OUT THERE**

by ardavenport

**)()()()(- - PART 8 - -)()()()(**

* * *

After Brice and Bellingham were safely in the doctors' hands (both were staying the night at least) they took Smitty back to Station Sixteen. He was a nice guy, but he absolutely did not want to ever have to bandage anybody's bleeding anything ever again. He had been in the fire department for less than a year.

When they arrived they double-checked to make sure they didn't confuse any of their equipment with Squad Sixteen's. The engine and squad were there and Captain Arnold came out to help. Smitty happily waved goodbye when they left.

They drove back in silence most of the way until Johnny finally said what he was sure that Roy was thinking about, too.

"Y'know, that could have been us."

"Yeah. Could have been." Roy stopped at a light. "It's part of the job."

"Yeah, I guess so." Johnny found Roy's bland response annoying, but he didn't say anything more. What else was there to say? The light went green and Roy turned left.

When they got back to Station Fifty-One the Engine was gone. But they smelled something like grilled cheese as the entered the day room. The remains of lunch still cluttered the kitchen table along with the pink box open in the middle, the cake half eaten. Johnny groaned when he saw it. Sandy's good-bye.

"I'm not hungry."

Roy looked from him and back to the box.

"Fine. You don't have to have any cake. But I'm hungry." He went to the oven to see what was there. He got some pot holders and took the leftovers out. But Johnny just kept staring at the cake.

Sandy's parting shot.

"I'm going to go finish the log."

"What? Johnny . . . "

He just left, not waiting for Roy's objection.

The log book was where they had left it, their notes from the morning runs stacked on the open page. Johnny sat the nearest rolling office chair and pushed it toward the second desk. He gathered them into one pile and added new notes from their last run with Brice and Bellingham.

His eyes found that one particular entry from the previous shift. Notes forgotten, he sat back and stared at it. Reminders of Sandy seemed to be coming at him on all sides. And reminders of the guy she had dumped him for.

_'I gotta tell you Johnny, Dan's got three inches on you. And enthusiasm only goes so far.'_ Johnny clinched his teeth over the memory. He stared at the red brick wall, the bulletin board on it.

He was still sitting there hunched over the log book when Roy came in.

"Got it finished yet?"

"No."

Roy stopped, looking down at the open book, the untouched notes. Johnny's green pen still in his front pocket.

"Johnny! What the hell's going on with you? You haven't done any of it? Have you just been sitting here all this time?" Roy's voice rose, furthering Johnny's irritation. Mostly because Roy was right; he should have been doing the log instead of stewing in his own misery.

"Is this about Sandy dumping you? Y'know I know you well enough to know that you usually have your problems one at a time."

Johnny's shoulders tensed. How could he know?

"Give me the log; I'll do it." Roy reached for the log book but Johnny grabbed it.

"It'll do it." He flattened the crumpled notes and started sorting them, earliest on top. Roy didn't move. He stood between Johnny and the office window, so he was casting a shadow on the book. But Johnny kept his head down and pressed down hard as he started on the first run, the lady with food poisoning.

"Boy, something's really bothering you."

"I don't want to talk about it." He kept writing. Time, victim name, address . . . spelled out in black print from his green pen.

"What's in there? You got all excited over something in there just before that first run."

Johnny could feel Roy leaning closer over him. He looked up and glared. "I don't want to talk about it."

*"Well, fine!" Roy raised his hands with a frustrated expression that meant that everything was _not_ fine. "I don't care what your problem is. But you've been sitting here staring at that book not doing anything with it for the past ten minutes, so if it's going to start interfering with your job maybe I'm going to have to find out about it."

Johnny clenched his teeth, unwilling to give in. Even if Roy was absolutely right. He spun around. "Well, what about you?"

"What?"

"Yeah, what about you? You come in with all kinds of problems that you don't want to talk about." Johnny looked around the room, trying to think of something. "Like . . . . like . . . . like why does your mother-in-law hate you so much?"

"What?" Roy drew back, thrown off balance. "What has that got to do with anything?"

Johnny pointed, seeing an advantage. "I've been listening to you complain about her for years. But you never want to talk about it. Why should I be the only one who's supposed to talk about my problems? What's going on with your mother-lin-law?"

"This isn't about me! You're, you're the one who hasn't finished the log book." Roy pointed, but there was a little hesitation in his voice that told Johnny that there was more to his mother-lin-law than her just being a mean, spiteful old lady. Johnny pressed his case.

"Aaaaaaah! You didn't answer my question."

"I don't have to talk about that!" Roy stepped back defensively.

"Well, I don't have to talk about this!" Johnny pointed down at the book, staring his partner down. After several seconds he picked up his pen again and with as much deliberative dignity as be could manage, continued writing. Incident: food poisoning. Transport: Rampart . . . .

"You really want to know what my mother-in-law's problem is?"

Johnny's eyes flicked upward. He hadn't really wanted to know anything about Roy's mother-in-low. For years he thought he was just hearing the stereotypical mother-in-law stories when his partner grumbled about her. And when he finally met her two days ago, he felt mightily glad that he had never gotten married. But now that Roy was offering to tell him about her, Johnny was curious.

He put his pen down.

"Yeah." He folded his arms before him. "I wanna know."

"Deal."

"So, what's her problem?"

"Oh, no!" Roy pointed at him as if he had just sprung a trap. "You're the one who started this. You get to go first. What's in that log book? Why did Sandy dump you?"

Johnny uncrossed his arms. Roy had accepted his dare; now it was his turn. That was the way things like this worked. Not seeing any way out of it, he scowled and jabbed his finger down on the offending entry.

"That. That's what's bothering me." He got from his chair and turned the book toward Roy.

Roy bent down to read the first line. 'Naked man caught in a rose bush while running.'" He grinned. "Oh, yeah, Charlie told me about this guy. He and a bunch of his friends were streaking a college girls dorm and he thought he could jump a line of rose bushes to get away from the cops. That's why we were low on Kerlex in the drug box this morning."

"Yeah, well why couldn't that have happened on _our_ shift? Better yet, why couldn't this have happened to _Dan_ on _our_ shift?"

"Dan? Who's Dan." Roy looked baffled for a moment and Johnny just waited until he figured it out.

"Oh. Dan's the guy Sandy dumped you for."

Johnny sighed, deflated. "Yeah." He fingered his pen, lying on the log book page, and then let it drop, pulling his hand up and away. "Dan's the Man."

"And, he likes to go streaking."

"Yep."

"And Sandy likes that kind of thing."

"Oh, yeah."

"So, how'd it happen?"

Johnny's shoulders dropped. "Oh, Roy, I dunno know where to start."

"How 'bout at the beginning. Your last date."

"Oh yeah. Our last date. . . . " He sighed in defeat.

"Well, we went to a beach party. Some friends of Sandy's. And things were going pretty well. They had a barbecue. Played volleyball. It was fine. For awhile. Except there was this guy named Dan; he's new at the bakery where Sandy works. I just knew that guy was going to be trouble.

"So, everything is going pretty well, and it's getting late and we're walking on the beach and there's this restaurant further down. And it's one of those ones with a patio, with tables and chairs and umbrellas. And it's pretty crowded, a lot of people there. And I don't know who said it, but somebody suggested that we streak the restaurant."

"You didn't!"

"No! I didn't! Of course I didn't, Roy! Are you kidding?" Johnny couldn't deny that fast enough. How could Roy ever think he was crazy enough to do that?

"Oh . . . . well, what happened then?"

"Well, . . . . Sandy wanted to. And just about everybody else." He glowered. "And . . . . I didn't. So, . . . . . they did.

"I couldn't believe it. They just took off all their clothes around me and . . . . off they went!" He threw his arm out as if he could cast the memory away. "And y'know the worst part - - when they're just going away - - that guy Dan picks up his clothes and Sandy's and he waves and says, 'Hey, Johnny, don't worry about giving her a ride home!'" He punched the air in front of him.

"Oh . . . . . So, they were naked, running off, when . . . . she dumped you."

"Yeah. That's about it." He didn't look back at Roy.

"Well, what happened to them?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Yeah, nothing." He almost shouted with cheerful outrage. "They all just ran past the restaurant. Everybody screamed and some guys shouted. I guess somebody called the cops. I didn't stick around for it."

"So, . . . .um, Sandy . . . . what'd she look like?"

Johnny sat back; the chair creaked. "She looked great, Roy. Really good."

"Oh." Roy leaned on the desk next to him. "I guess that's a hell of a way to get dumped. So, um, why did she bring the cake by later?"

"Oh, that was when she _really_ dumped me, Roy." Johnny shook his head, his lips twisted into a wounded grin. "She brought it by the next day. Said she wanted to apologize. Huh-huh. It was some apology."

"Did she want to get back together?"

"In a way. If you could call it that."

"Well, what does that mean?"

He sighed. "She didn't want to date me anymore. Not exactly. She wanted a threesome. With Dan."

"What?"

"Roy!" Johnny waved his arms in frustration. "I don't want to explain it! She dumped me, Roy! And then she comes back the next day and said, 'I'll take you back if you want to play second string for Dan.'" Johnny's voice rose in a falsetto as he did his nastiest imitation of Sandy. He would have thrown the cake, brownies and cream puffs across the room, but they were in his apartment and he didn't want to clean it up. "People just do that now. You can't just take a girl out for dinner and a movie anymore. They're all threesomes and foursomes and swingers and hustlers."

Roy sat back away from this explosion. "Okay." But Johnny wasn't finished.

"I mean when did I become some . . . old fogey? Since when did it become 'old fashioned' to just want to be with _one_ girl at a time?"

Roy flinched back. "Uhhhhh. . . . " Johnny could see Roy's blue eyes widen as he belatedly figured out that 'threesome' meant three people together.

"Man, you do not know what's out there, Roy. You have no idea." As degrading as Sandy's offer had been, it was hardly the weirdest. But Johnny wasn't going there now. Roy didn't need to know about the sweet young nurse who turned out to be a dominatrix in leather bra and panties, or the girl with the metal cock rings and chains in her purse.

Roy said nothing. Johnny sat back, swinging the chair around, facing away from the log book, his outraged confession spent.

Roy continued to say nothing until Johnny finally got tired of glaring at the fire prevention poster and the clock on the opposite wall.

"So, what about you?"

"Hunh?"

Johnny looked up at him. "Roy, why does your mother-in-law hate you so much? It's your turn."

"Oh, um, well . . . . it's not quite as exotic as your problem." He folded his arms before him. "Well, y'know how she talked about Chris's birthday coming up and getting him a present. And how much nicer it would have been if it were later in the year. During her usual visit?"

Johnny sort of remembered that amidst all the other implied insults over the DeSoto's dining room table. "Yeah. So?"

"Well, Joanne and I were originally supposed to get married in June, but we. . . aaah . . . had to move the date up to December." He almost mumbled the last part.

"Well, why?"

"Why? Because we _had_ to, Johnny!" Roy raised his voice. "We had to get married six months early!"

Johnny's jaw dropped. _Roy? And Joanne?_

"You . . . . and Joanne?"

"Yeah. Me and Joanne. And we had to tell her mother. I'd known her for years. I went to grade school with Joanne. We'd already told them we wanted to get married. But that didn't make any difference. All of a sudden I was just the guy," he jabbed his thumb at his chest, "who got her daughter pregnant." He leaned back against the desk, crossed his arms again and looked toward the window. "And she's never let me forget it." The white blinds, brightened by daylight, were drawn, but there was just a cement wall and the side of the neighboring building on the other side the station's driveway. Nothing to look at.

"You . . . . and Joanne?"

Visibly cross, Roy turned back to him. "Yeah, me. And Joanne. I'm still a man y'know. And Joanne's still a woman. And that's pretty much why her mother has got a grudge against me. Because I'm the guy Joanne got _stuck_ with because I got her pregnant."

"Wow. I guess I never would have guessed?" Johnny just shook his head, stunned by the revelation. Roy . . . . . and Joanne?

"Guessed what?"

"Well, I mean, I never figured that you and Joanne had a shotgun wedding."

Roy angrily pushed away from the desk. "There were no shotguns involved." He pointed a thumb at his chest. "_I'd_ already asked her. _She'd_ already said yes. We just . . . . got a little ahead of ourselves." The confession deflated some of his outrage. He slumped back against the typewriter stand.

Johnny was still getting used to the idea. When he was fifteen, after his mother caught him and a couple of his friends with a _National Geographic_ his father had marched him out to backyard and given him the army lecture about how _not_ to get a girl pregnant and how _not_ catch anything. There had even been some unpleasant, yellowing pamphlets from his father's days in the service. He never dreamed that Roy hadn't gotten the same talk. Or wouldn't heed it if he had.

"Well, I guess . . . you don't know everything about some people." Johnny certainly didn't want Roy to think he would hold something like that against him.

"Oh you don't know the half of it."

Johnny didn't like the sound of that. He narrowed his eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Y'know when we tried out trading cars a few years ago. You driving my little sports car, me driving your Rover?"

"Yeeeeaaah?" Johnny had no idea where this was going.

"Well, I didn't say anything at the time since we agreed to call it off, but Joanne was pretty upset about it."

"Joanne? Why?"

"Well, I mean, that car . . . . that's where it happened."

"You . . . . and Joanne . . . . in that car? Well . . . well . . . . _how_?" his voice pitch rose on this last question. It was a tiny convertible, a foreign model with room for two people. And not much else.

"Well, we were a little younger back then. And were going to get married anyway . . . . and we were out on a date . . . . it was late. And things just kept happening. And . . . . first time for both of us. . . ." Roy's words trailed off, no more explanation possible for him.

The shock was just setting in for Johnny. Roy had just confirmed what he had always suspected, that Joanne was the only woman his partner had ever slept with. But also that their first time had been in a car . . . . . that Roy had lost his virginity in . . . . .that Johnny had almost taken in trade for his Rover.

"You . . . . and Joanne . . . . in _that_ car?"

Roy lost his patience again.

"Yeah, me and Joanne! In _that_ car! Love found a way! I'm surprised a man of your vast experience with women is having trouble with the concept, Johnny!" Roy took a step forward, towering over him. "And maybe I'm not as much an old fogey as you. Maybe I do know a little bit about what's out there than you think!"

Johnny pushed the wheeled chair away, his hands up in surrender. "Okay, Okay!"

They stayed frozen in their standoff; Roy looming over Johnny but uncertain about what he was supposed to do next; Johnny knowing he'd pushed too far and hoping that this was done. Roy backed down first.

"Okay, then," he shrugged one shoulder, "I guess that's okay."

"All right." Johnny uncertainly glanced around the plain, brick-walled office. Something remained unfinished. Roy looked uncomfortable.

"Is there anything else?" After Roy's revelation about the car, Johnny didn't want to hear any more.. But if there was something else, he just had to know.

"I was just wondering . . . . . . I mean. . . . . how do you do that? Two guys and a woman. I mean, how can that work?" Roy looked genuinely puzzled.

Johnny was speechless for a few seconds. He wasn't surprised that Roy didn't know. Just amazed that he was suddenly in the position of having to explain anal sex to him. He didn't want to talk about it. But he had to admit that he'd started it. He sighed.

"Well, you take the woman." He held up one hand. "And you take the man." He held up his other hand, palms facing each other. "In the regular way." He brought his palms closer.

"Then you take the second man." He put his second behind the first. "And he goes in. . . . the back door at the same time."

Roy looked baffled for a moment before he figured it out. "You mean he goes in her rear end?"

Johnny nodded. "Yep."

"Well, why? Why would they do that?"

Johnny shrugged. "Some people like it that way." He put his hand on his chest. "Not me. And certainly not as some afterthought with some guy named Dan after she dumps me."

Roy was still having trouble with the anal sex part. "You mean people really like that?"

"Yeah. That's how two guys do it."

The surprise compounded in Roy's blue eyes. Then he straightened, lowering his eyes thoughtfully.

"Hunh. I always wondered how they did that." Then he looked worried and backed up, his eyes shifting back to his partner. "How do you know that?"

Johnny just shrugged. "Ooooh, you'd be surprised by what guys will brag about in a singles' club."

Bang! Rattle-rattle-rattle-rattle-rattle-rattle-rattle-rattle-rattle-rattle-rattle.

Roy froze. Johnny's head whipped around to the open office door.

The engine crew was back.

Roy's eyes went wide. Johnny frantically looked around.

"Uh, the log, Roy! We have to finish the log!" Johnny grabbed for the notes, scattering them, and dug into his front pocket for his pen before he saw it lying on the open spine of the log book. He grabbed it.

"Oh, yeah." Roy dashed forward, collecting the notes.

By the time Captain Stanley poked his head in the door, they had sorted all their notes and Johnny was writing down the entries.

"Hey, you guys get anything to eat?"

"Oh we're fine, Cap. We're just finishing our log." Johnny grinned and pointed at the book. He hadn't had anything to eat, but he wasn't hungry enough to risk any questions about what he was doing instead of having lunch.

"Okay. Hey, what happened on that last run with Sixteen?"

"Oh, Brice and Bellingham got injured in a rock slide on their last run. We helped them out. They're going to be fine, but they're going to be in Rampart for a day or two." Roy gestured with nervous cheer.

Hands on either side of the door frame, the tall man just shrugged. "Oh, sorry to hear that. You can tell us all about it when you're done with that."

"Right, Cap."

Stanley left.

Roy let his breath out, his false smile vanishing. Johnny ran his hand through his hair, pushing his thick bangs back from his forehead.

"You, um," Roy leaned on the desk again, "aren't going to say anything to the guys about, y'know, me and Joanne, are you?"

Johnny whirled around back to him. "No! I swear, Roy. No way. I won't say anything about any of it to anybody." He sincerely wanted his partner to know that he was serious. No jokes, no kidding around. Just his word.

Roy nodded, apparently reassured. "Oh, okay. Thanks. I won't say anything about Sandy."

Johnny relaxed, a corner of his mouth turning up in a crooked smile. "Thanks."

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)()()()(- - End PART 8 - -)()()()(**


	9. Chapter 9

**WHAT'S OUT THERE**

by ardavenport

**)()()()(- - PART 9 - -)()()()(**

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Johnny and Roy saw Dixie McCall at the Emergency Department base station when they got to Rampart after their shift. She smiled up from the form on the desk, her shoulder length graying blond hair unadorned by the nurse's cap she had worn for years.

Rampart was experimenting with their dress code, the first big change since they'd allowed all nurses to wear pants. Now, senior nurses were no longer required to wear caps. If that proved popular, the rest of the nursing staff would be allowed to discard them as well. Rumor had it that Dixie McCall had burned hers. But when anyone asked her, she would just smile, her eyes twinkling, when she refused to confirm or deny it.

"Hey, Dix, looks a little slow this morning." Johnny looked up and down the hall. It wasn't too crowded. Only a couple people in the chairs in the waiting area.

"Oh, give them time; this place will fill up soon enough. You come to see Brice and Bob?"

"Yep." Roy slapped his hand down on the counter. "I hope they haven't killed each other yet."

Johnny grinned. "Or Brice hasn't driven the staff crazy. Bet he knows all the hospital regulations by heart."

Dixie just smiled. "Oh, they're getting along fine."

"Really?" That surprised Roy. "I mean I know Bob gets along with him for his partner, but sharing a squad isn't the same thing as sharing a room." His eyes flicked toward his own partner, a reminder of the disastrous night he'd spent at Johnny's apartment while his house was being fumigated. "It's tough to imagine anyone being able to stand being cooped up with Brice as a roommate. Even Bob isn't that easy-going."

Dixie's smiled just seemed to turn mysterious. "Oh, they're more compatible than you think. And that broken arm and all those stitches has slowed Brice down a little bit, too." She pointed toward the elevator. "Room Three-Nineteen."

"Thanks." "Thanks, Dix."

They waved to her as they left. They only had to wait a minute for the elevator with a couple other people. Hospital elevators were fast. On the third floor, the nurses were busy collecting the breakfast trays. They found Three-Nineteen on their own.

"Hi guys!" Bob cheerfully greeted them, standing next to Brice's bed, a half slice of toast in his hand.

"Uh, hi Bob. Brice." Johnny immediately averted his eyes. So did Roy.

Bob Bellingham, reputed to be the biggest slob in the fire department, was also apparently not shy. He wore nothing but a white hospital gown, the back flap open. Craig Brice sat stone-faced in bed, no glasses, his right arm immobilized up to the shoulder in plaster.

"Bob, cover up."

"Oh." One hand fumbled in back. "Hey, you want this other piece?"

"Help yourself, Bob."

After collecting his second piece of toast, Bob shuffled back to his bed. He put the toast on the night stand, heaved himself up into bed. He retrieved the toast and took a big bite, a generous scatter of dry crumbs dropping on the front of his gown and in the bed. The two newcomers warily came into the room. Johnny smirked. Of course Bellingham would treat a hospital like a locker room.

"Just thought we'd see how you're doing." Roy nodded to them both.

"Yeah, how're you doing Brice? The arm going to be okay?"

Brice's expression mellowed a little. "It will need some physical therapy after I get the cast off, but it should be a hundred percent in a minimum of seventy-eight days."

"Well, I sure know what that's like. So, just ask if you need any pointers."

Brice, straightened imperiously, his hospital gown spotlessly smooth on him. Then his eyes shifted over to Bob and he exhaled. His expression softened.

"Thank-you, Gage."

Surprised, Johnny replied with a cheerful shrug. "Don't mention it."

Bob took another bite of toast, dribbling more crumbs.

"So, do you need anything?" Roy looked from one bed to the other.

"Thank-you, no. If they release Bob today, he's promised to get some things from my place." Brice nodded with satisfaction.

"Yeah, if they let me out of here. But I'm beginning to wonder if Brice here appreciates all the nice things I'm doing for him."

"Oh really." Johnny put a hand on his hip. "Well y'know, yesterday out there in the field, Brice was pretty worried about you."

Roy joined in on the fun. "Didn't you say you guys practically had to hold him down when he thought Bob was dead?"

Johnny pursed his lips speculatively. "Yeah, just about."

"Yeah?" Bellingham looked impressed and Brice's cheek's flushed.

"It was the shock." Brice pulled the covers up with his free hand and smoothed them.

Roy and Johnny exchanged mutual smirks over Brice's embarrassment.

Bob accepted it with good humor. "Well, at least now I know I'm being appreciated for the things I do for this guy. But, hey! If they let me outta here, I've still gotta get someone to get my car."

"I've got it."

They all turned as Captain Arnold came through the door. Dressed in civies, black pants, jacket, plaid shirt. He carried a brown grocery bag. "Freeman and Smitty are carpooling. They brought that wreck of yours over here. The keys are in here; I got your stuff from your locker, since you weren't going to get upset about anything being wrinkled." The gray-haired old man glanced toward Brice as he put the paper bag on the hospital bed stand next to Bob's empty food tray.

"Hey, thanks, Cap!" The balding younger man held up the remains of his toast in an improvised salute. "Oh, but where'd they park it? It's a big lot out there."

Arnold shrugged. "I don't know. Freeman and Smitty said they'd be right back. Said that they were going to bring flowers." He sneered. "I gotta tell you, back in the day, fireman got hurt, he just toughed it out. I got the scars to prove it."

Johnny caught Brice and Bellingham exchanging looks; they'd heard this speech before.

"Didn't have his buddies bringing him flowers. Whole world's gone crazy. Not like it was in the old days. Men didn't talk about their feelings. Women didn't wear pants. Next thing you know, they'll have women firefighters, too." He stopped. And eyed them all as if he just noticed they were there. "Hrrrrpphhh. Anyway, you two are good firefighters. I expect to see you back at the Station as soon as you're off the sick list."

"Right, Cap." Bellingham and Brice spoke in unison.

Arnold nodded to Roy and Johnny on his way out with a gruff and stoic, "Thanks for your help," and left.

"Well, We've gotta get going, too." Roy started edging toward the door and Johnny hopped to follow.

"Uh, yeah. Glad to see you guys are okay. Say hi to Smitty and Freeman for us."

"Hey, thanks for stopping by. And take care of your partner, Roy." Bellingham looked toward Brice who cleared his throat.

"Gage." Brice sat at attention in his bed, as rigid as the cast on his arm. "You acted very professionally out there. Thank-you."

"Uh, thanks Brice. That . . uuuuh, means a lot to me." Johnny supposed that this was a compliment from Brice. But it still sounded like a performance review.

Bellingham gave them a thumbs up as they left. "See you guys out there."

**

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)()()()(- - END - -)()()()(**

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Disclaimer:** All characters belong to Mark VII Productions, Inc., Universal Studios and whoever else owns the 1970's TV show Emergency!; I am just playing in their sandbox.


End file.
